


Surprise Guest

by the_angry_pixie



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Drug Use, Everyone Is Gay, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Mystery Character(s), OT7, POV Outsider, Polyamory, Relationship(s), Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-29 17:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_angry_pixie/pseuds/the_angry_pixie
Summary: A surprise guest turns up for Bill's 21st birthday party.An outsiders POV of the The Losers and their very special (as in poly af) relationship with each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Modern day, all the losers live together in NYC and are happily poly. Somewhat canon-compliant (as in Pennywise happened, but the Losers memories are foggy about it). This story is very heavily influenced by the [askpolylosersclub](https://askpolylosersclub.tumblr.com/) blog, all except for one very large plot point which will be evident by the end of the chapter. But yes, that tumblr is awesome so do check it out.

Everything moved so fast here. Like that phrase you always hear. _Hustle and bustle_. I bet if I tried to take any photos they would all just come out blurry.

 

Not that I have time for that. I’m already late and I’m the "Surprise Guest". It wouldn’t do to get lost because I was too busy staring at New York skyscrapers.

 

Thank god Bev had organised an Uber. She seemed to always think of everything. If left to my own devices I would probably just slump down on the curb and cry. There were just so many people, so many cars. I hadn’t been prepared.

 

But it was okay now because I was in the car and the driver had the address and _aw shit_ now I was kind of getting nervous. Excited too. But the nerves were definitely outweighing that, wriggling around in me like dancing snakes.

 

It would be weird seeing them all again. None of them had been home to Derry in years. They had been living it up in New York. Doing whatever it is they do. I didn't really know, keeping in contact had kind of fallen by the wayside. And like, I wasn't really all that into social media.

 

I still didn’t quite understand how they made it work – all living together in the one house. Wasn’t it cramped?

 

Bill hadn’t confirmed it, but I knew he was dating Stan. So maybe they shared a room? And Ben and Bev had been dating since high school, so unless I was seriously behind on my gossip perhaps they shared a room too? But still, it must be a freaking _huge_ house.

 

Maybe the birthday boy would finally feel comfortable enough to come out to me on this trip... maybe I could finally do the same to him...

 

Another twinge pinched in my stomach. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t be happy to see me? Maybe there was a _reason_ he hadn’t come back to Derry during any of the holidays for the last 2 years…? On some level I knew he cared deeply about me... but maybe me and Derry were a package deal in his eyes – something to be left behind…

 

I shook my head of those thoughts. Bev and Richie had been so excited when they had talked to me over the phone. Begging and pleading with me until they finally convinced me to come. They were the masterminds behind all this. Planned the whole thing from start to finish. They seemed to think that me arriving unannounced was the best gift they could possibly give Bill.

 

I gripped my camera bag a little bit tighter to my side. I sure hoped that would be the case.

 

“How much further?” I asked the driver.

 

“About 10 minutes.”

 

My stomach flipped again as I sent off a quick text to Bev telling her I was 10 minutes away.

 

The response came quickly.

 

_Bev: I know cutie. I have your Ubers navigation on my phone._

 

I shook my head. I didn’t understand what that meant. Uber hadnt exactly taken off in Derry. That, and I was just such a goddamn technophobe.

 

Perhaps somehow sensing my nervousness another text came through shortly after.

 

_Bev: This is going to be so great!! XD The partys already banging. Bill is super preoccupied and clueless. You will be the cherry on his 21st Birthday Sundae! Txt me when you’re outside. xx_

 

I gazed out the window. We were well and truly out of the city now with its intimidating buildings and busy streets. But the area still seemed kind of nice. Lots of brownstones. Or were they just townhouses? _Narrow_ was the word that jumped to mind looking at these old buildings with their dizzying array of people living practically on top of each other. I wondered whether that was the case with Bill’s place. They sure had enough people living there.

 

I didn’t have much time to wonder because suddenly the car was slowing. My pulse kicked up a notch as we rolled to stop in front of a big set of brick townhouses. Nothing really noteworthy about them. I could see potted flowers attached to the outside of one window. And a rainbow flag hanging across the window above it.

 

Feeling like my heart was in my throat I climbed out of the car and thanked the driver as he handed over my suitcase from the trunk with a friendly smile.

 

With shaking fingers I quickly texted Bev.

 

There wasn’t much time to ponder my situation. Almost instantly the front door was opening and the tall, lanky frame of Richie Tozier was bounding down the 6 or so stairs guarding the front entrance.

 

“Fuck me sideways you’re really here!”

 

The next thing I knew I was being embraced like I hadn’t been embraced in years! I was pretty tall myself, it ran in the family, but Richie practically _engulfed_ me like some sort of spindly praying mantis.

 

“Bill is going to shit twice and then die when he sees you!” Richie was pulling back to hold my face between his large hands and just look at me.

 

I chuckled. It was hard not to get swept up in such wild enthusiasm. “Hi Richie” I murmured shyly.

 

“Hey cutie!” I hadn’t even noticed Bev walking up beside us.

 

I was being pulled into a much softer but somehow still firm hug. A kiss pressed against my cheek.

 

“Hey Bevvie. Long time no see.” And _boy_ was she a sight. Her hair flowing down to the middle of her back in a fiery river. Her beautiful freckled skin practically glowing against her emerald top.

 

“You betcha ass!” Bev leaned back grinning her agreement. “And what a cute ass it is too” I laughed bashfully as she made a show of bending around to look at the backside of my jeans. It had always been kind of hard NOT to have a crush on Beverly Marsh.

 

“Ok, ok stop flirting with the guy. Lets get him inside. I’m about to piss myself with excitement!” Richie was practically hopping from foot to foot.

 

Bev was grabbing my hand. Richie was grabbing my suitcase. And we were moving. OH GOD we were moving.

 

Walking up the stairs, clambering into the small entryway. Richie abandoned my suitcase at the bottom of a steep staircase. Now that we were inside I could hear the beat of uptempo music and the hum of chattering voices.

 

My panic was kicking up a few notches.

 

Richie strode through a doorway yelling at the top of his lungs.

 

“BIIIIIILLLLL YOUR PRESENT IS HERE!!”

 

“What did you do? Get him a strip-a-gram or something?” a voice that sounded like Eddie Kasbrak’s could be heard through the wall as Bev guided me along the short hallway to lead me through the doorway.

 

It was a bit of an assault to the senses. Colour and movement everywhere. Faces that were certainly familiar, but not immediately recognisable. All staring at me with varying degrees of surprise, confusion and budding recognition. Somebody had put a lot of effort into gaudy, festive decorations. Balloons and streamers were strung up to every available surface of the somewhat crowded loungeroom.

 

But through all this I still managed to capture the exact moment where Bill, in the middle of laughing at something, turned around and saw me.

 

I could see from the corner of my eye Richie thumbing at a phone in the corner of the room and the music volume was turning down.

 

My eyes were fixed on Bill’s. I tried to smile. I _wanted_ to smile. I was filled with this inexplicable joy at just the sight of him.

 

He was staring right back at me, his mouth hanging open. The beer in his hand slowly lowering to his side.

 

“G-G-Georgie…?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuuuunnnn. Georgie is alive people! And visiting his big bro for the first time in years! I didn't tag him because I wanted the reveal to be a surprise. I know this first chapter is short, but I just wanted to put it out there and see if anyone was interested in reading more. Let me tell you, it was weird writing in 1st person POV. But i feel like it will work well (if I continue the story) for giving Georgie's impressions of everything and everyone. And also, this is my first IT fic so... I'm terribly interested to know what y'all thought! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop. I guess this is going to be longer than the initial 2 chapters I expected. Probably because I am too impatient to have either encouragement or critiques heaped on me. Anyway, enjoy!

Bill is sobbing by the time he makes it into my arms. Big, heaving ones that quake against my frame. He was mumbling something.

 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I forgot I’m sorry.”

 

As we sank to the ground together. I found myself mumbling too in response.

 

“It’s ok don’t cry it's ok it's ok I love you don’t cry.”

 

It was a ridiculous thing to say really. How could I tell someone not to cry when I could feel the big, fat drops running down my cheeks too.

 

Bill only sobbed harder, burying his head against the juncture where my neck met my shoulder. His hands gripping at my back. He was practically sitting in my lap but I didn’t mind. Nor did I mind that we quite literally had an audience standing in a circle around us.

 

All that mattered was my big brother in my arms. The warmth of his body against mine. Real. Not a dream. That was really his tears and snot soaking into the collar of my shirt.

 

I brought the hook of my prosthesis up and carefully pushed Bill’s hair back from his face. It was shorter on the sides than he had ever had it before, but his auburn bangs still hung stubbornly in his eyes as always.

 

He looked up at me wetly. With a sniff he chuckled, sitting back.

 

“H-h-how are you here?” He cupped his hands against my cheeks, as though to check that I really was flesh and bone.

 

“Bev and Richie… they convinced Mum and Dad” I smiled, “Paid for my tickets too.” I glanced over my brothers shoulder to share my smile with the two individuals in question.

 

Bev was clutching onto Richie’s side. I could see there were tears in her eyes too. Bill was turning and looking their way. He must have been communicating all he needed to say with his gaze because he said nothing. Bev giggled, almost seeming bashful and Richie blushed, removing his glasses to rub them on his shirt distractedly.

 

Suddenly I was being pulled back into a hug and this time, it was me leaning against the broad chest of my older brother. I accepted the hug gratefully. This had gone so much better than I ever could have dreamed.

 

_He loves me. He wants me here. He is sorry..._

 

“Don’t ever leave me...” Bill murmured, the words muffled against my hair. It must have been loud enough for the others to hear though because I could hear Richie’s distinctive cackle in the background.

 

“Don’t worry Big Bill. We’ll invest in one of those baby slings. That way you can strap him to your chest and take him with you everywhere.”

 

The room erupted into laughter, myself included.

 

“D-don’t laugh t-too hard George. I’m s-seriously considering it.” Bill’s watery smile was the best thing I had seen in months, maybe years.

 

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur. At first, I felt kind of bad. I kind of felt like I was completely monopolising my brother. Whenever I would try to wander away from him and talk to one of the Losers he would appear at my elbow about a minute later. Asking did I want another drink? Was I hungry? Tired? Sore? Did I need a shower? Did I need a break from socialising? Did I want to come see the house? Did I want to see his comic collection? His portfolio?

 

I tried to bat away his hovering but my brother can be a little bit relentless sometimes. In the end I finally humoured him and followed him up to his room.

 

It had been Mike, who had just finished clearing away the cake and storing it in the fridge, who gave me that final push of permission. Whispering to me, to just take him upstairs already. _“None of us are going to be able to hold his attention tonight anyway. Not with you here bud.”_ Accompanied by that big reassuring smile that I had always unconsciously associated with Mike Hanlon.

 

And so we did. While the party continued below us, we ended up just sitting on Bill’s bed, drinking beers and talking. The sun streaming through the window turned pink, then orange and eventually melted away as night fell.

 

Catching up, not really talking of anything important. Bill wanted to show me everything. To tell me everything. He seemed almost fit to bursting with words and news and stories. _Boy_ the stories. Apparently living with 6 roommates was just as hectic as it sounded.

 

I looked around the room as I let his words wash over me. I saw a lot of Bill in this room. His canvases stacked carefully against the wall, some blank, some half done. His desk a familiar hodge-podge of books, papers, pens and art supplies. His wardrobe was standing open and clothes were rolling out of it like a patchwork tongue. But there was something distinctly missing from this room.

 

Where did Stanley fit into this room?

 

Out of all the Losers Stan was probably the one I knew least about. He was reserved (like me) and austere (not like me at all) and not just a little bit intimidating. Ever since “the incident”, my brother’s entire group of friends had pretty much all adopted me as their younger sibling. Doted on me, encouraged me, helped me when I was having trouble at school, or with my rehabilitation, or with my parents or _anything_ really. Stan had been apart of that too... but his contributions had always been a bit more quiet, more refined.

 

But even though I didn’t know “Stan The Man” as well as maybe I knew the others, I still knew _enough_. And this room, it would send him crazy! How did that _work?!_

 

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask when Bill let out a truly impressive burp. We both disintegrated into giggles.

 

“Hey b-bud, how about you take a shuh-sh-shower and get ruh-ready for bed? I’ll just go down and s-say g-good night to everyone.”

 

At some point earlier in the night Richie had hauled my suitcase up the two flights of stairs. We’d heard his pants and complaints a mile away. But when he’d entered he played it off as if it were nothing. Delivering the case on bended knee as though he were a foreign dignitary presenting a gift to a King.

 

I’d told him to get off his knees and stop acting like an ass.

 

He’d just blown a raspberry and dropped a kiss on both my cheek and then Bill’s before sweeping out of the room laughing maniacally. I’d flushed to my roots. I really had to get a handle on that teeny-tiny Richie crush which had been burning away softly inside me for years.

 

“Ok, could you bring up my camera bag when you come back up?” I didn’t argue because truth be told, I did feel kind of gross and also like I could maybe take a small 10 hour nap.

 

“Sure thing” Bill winked as he exited the room.

 

By the time he got back, I’d showered, got into my pajama pants and was sitting on his bed applying cream to my stump where the prosthesis tended to rub.

 

“Need help?” Bill’s eyes looked earnest as he watched the circular motions of my left hand.

 

“Nah.” I assured him.

 

“N-Need a massage?”

 

“I’m good.”

 

“Need—”

 

“ _Bill!_ ” I cut across him as I pulled the pot of ointment into my lap so I could screw the lid on again.

 

“Sorry” he at least looked sheepish. “I guess I feel like I’ve g-got some b-big brothering to catch up on or something...”

 

A kernel of warmth glowed in my chest. “S’ok. Where am I sleeping?”

 

Bill flopped down on the bed next to me. Pushing the hair back from his face.

 

“In here with me. B-but I talked it over with the others. If it’s too c-crowded, R-Richie and Eddie have said we can have th-their bed. S’bigger. Richie can sleep with Mike or Stan or on the c-c-couch.”

 

There was a lot to process in that sentence. Richie and Eddie? Stan has his own bed, his own room? I was a little too tipsy and tired to really make sense of it. So instead I questioned the other glaringly obvious part of that plan.

 

“Why don’t _I_ just sleep on the couch?”

 

At this, remarkably Bill lowered his eyes to the bed sheets before burying his face against it. Blindly he reached out with one of his long arms until his fingers circled around the ankle of the foot I had propped up on one knee.

 

“Because I want you close by” was the muffled response. His face emerged from the covers and stared at me beseechingly. “I nuh-know I’m being weird its just… I’m scared you’ll just vanish again. Not _literally_ , but l-like in my m-mind. I c-cant explain it and I d-dont want to right now. So can you j-just stay with me p-please?” His hand gripped tenderly around the bones of my ankle.

 

I smiled patting at his hand. “S’ok Billy. I’m not going anywhere. You have the next 7 days to get sick of me. And hey, it will be like when we’d go camping, or when I would have nightmares. Remember?”

 

When it came down to it, bed-sharing had always been a thing between us. I’d used to get a lot of nightmares. I mean, could you _blame_ me? I'd been kidnapped by a psychotic demon-clown and had been rescued with only half an arm. Nightmares are a given. However I was nice enough to not mention the times when the roles had been reversed. When it had been _Bill_ who’d suffered through the night terrors, who had been the one to come crawling into _my_ bed.

 

Bill nodded in response to my question. And he looked much more relaxed. I quickly whipped my camera from where I had placed it beside the bed and snapped a photo of him. It was harder without my prosthesis, but I managed ok. Bill frowned.

 

“Q-quit it.”

 

I stuck my tongue out at him as I snapped another photo of his annoyed expression. “No.”

 

Apparently this was our cue to completely regress to our childhoods as Bill proceeded to tackle and wrestle me to the bed as I howled at him to be _"careful of the expensive merchandise"_ and to _"not pick on a cripple"_.

 

It was a theme that would continue further into the night as the wrestling subsided and we settled under the covers. Whispering back and forth to each other in the darkness like children on a sleepover.

 

“Sooo… any girls you _like-like_ at the moment…?”

 

I snorted at the stupid, probing question and the cooing way my brother voiced it.

 

“There’s a few I guess...” I mumbled, burying my face under the covers a bit. Sure, I was 16 years old. Practically a man. But it was still embarrassing talking about this stuff. Especially with Bill who had always seemed so confident and at ease with himself.

 

“G-go on...” Bill responded poking my side. But he’d dropped the simpering voice, and now he just sounded soft and encouraging. It made me feel… brave.

 

“Well there’s Sally from my maths class. She helps me when I’m having trouble and not understanding stuff. Which is _a lot._ And there’s… there’s Thandie. She’s the one with the really nice braids that works at the ice cream shop. I think she has a boyfriend though. And there’s…” I paused to look at where Bill’s eyes were glinting at me in the dark. “… well there’s also Aleksi. He’s in my english class and we sit together at lunch. He’s originally from Finland so we kind of bond over being “different” together. He’s really sweet and… really good looking…”

 

I chanced another look. Those big eyes were still staring at me.

 

“Oh...” I was surprised by how much timidity could be fit into that one syllable.

 

“… yeah… I used to think I was gay, but I’m pretty sure by now I’m just bi...” I continued, wondering what was running through Bill’s mind.

 

There was a slightly elongated pause while my big, dumb brother sorted out his thoughts. I wasn’t worried though. I had a pretty good idea what was coming.

 

Finally a chuckle sounded through the dark and I felt warm fingers curling around mine.

 

“Wow. Me too!”

 

I couldn’t help sniggering at this as I squeezed my hand around his. “Yeah I know.”

 

“You do…?”

 

I moved my head an inch closer to his, our noses almost touching. I could feel his warmth breaths against my face.

 

“Yeah of course. I would have to be blind to not notice that big dopey look you’d always get on your face whenever Stanley was around” I murmured, not even trying to hold back my amusement.

 

“Oh...”

 

“Yeah… _idiot_.”

 

“Well now I just feel stupid for not telling you sooner…”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“It’s just, you know how Mom and Dad are...”

 

“I’m not like them” I stated flatly.

 

“I know!” Bill was quick to correct himself.

 

“I haven’t had a girlfriend _or_ a boyfriend yet. But if I did, I would have told you...”

 

“I know… I’m sorry.”

 

“Well, good.”

 

“Ok then...”

 

We paused in warm silence. I mused over the fact that Bill hadn’t been stuttering that whole time. It made me sleepily giddy. It used to happen a lot more when we were kids. When it was just the two of us, sometimes he wouldn’t stutter at all for whole conversations. It made me feel special, like I had some sort of superpower.

 

“So... you and Stan huh?”

 

I could feel the smile though I couldn’t really see it. “Y-yeah. We been together for almost th-three y-years now.”

 

“So how come you two don’t share a room...”

 

I knew my brother was blushing. I could practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

 

“Me and Stan? He’d probably s-strangle me if he had to share a room with me. It wuh-works better this way.”

 

Another silent pause. I could feel my heavy eyelids drooping as I drifted towards sleep.

 

Suddenly there was a shuffling noise from outside the bedroom door followed by a muffled bang and some giggles. I lifted my head and Bill looked around over his shoulder.

 

There was some muffled whispers and the sounds of one individual trying to shush another.

 

“ _Siiii, lead the way Senor Papiiii”_   came a raspy, lilting voice followed by more giggles and two sets of footsteps ascending the stairs to the attic level.

 

“That’s Mike’s room upstairs right?”

 

Bill settled back down against the mattress. “Mmhmm.”

 

“Guess he’s got company tonight...” I mused settling down myself.

 

“Mmhmm” was the only response I got from Bill as he reached out to grab my hand again. Was it just me or did he seem a little… strained…

 

So I decided to not push. I decided to not mention that the company Mike was keeping sounded an awful lot like Richie doing his awful Mexican impression. Those questions could come later when I was bit more sober and a bit less tired.

 

“Night Bill.”

 

“Night Georgie.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. Not much poly-content, but trust and believe, that will be coming next chapter. I just wanted to focus on giving the brothers the proper reunion that they deserved. Also I have done some research but am by no means excessively knowledgeable about living with a prosthetic limb. So if any more-knowledgeable individuals want to weigh in about anything, I welcome you to do so. If you're interested, Georgie wears a body-powered prosthesis with a hook that looks similar to [this](https://www.rehab.research.va.gov/jour/2014/512/images/jrrd-2013-05-0123f02lb.jpg) and [this](http://www.orthoworx.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/BodyPoweredArmProstheses-demo.jpg). 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed. Comments and critiques are very welcome. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georgie does a lot of observing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long - life and writers block happened. But its an extra long one, so hopefully that will make up for the wait. :)
> 
> Also I just want to give you a quick rundown on the **Pennywise incident** , because I won't be going too deeply into it in this story. Basically, Georgie was abducted rather than killed, similar to Bev. And just like Bev they found him floating but not completely dead when they defeated Pennywise in the sewers. They were able to revive him but his arm had still been bitten off. I'm guessing they just made up some sort of "animal mauling" excuse for doctors and parents, and because this is Derry, the idiot adults just accepted it.

Breakfast was a lethargic affair. My brother wasn’t really a morning person and I wasn’t much better. We slept in a generous amount and finally trudged our way downstairs. Mike was standing off to the side, cleaning the waffle iron and was honest-to-god whistling.

 

Bev informed me from over her coffee cup that Eddie had class and Stan had a work shift and so had left early. I’d already known about the Stan thing because Bill and I were going to meet him for lunch today after he finished work.

 

It was kind of funny to watch Richie sitting cross-legged in his seat trying to engage Bill in conversation who was just _not having it._ Every now and then Richie would take one of his lucky charm marshmallows and nudge it against Bill’s lips who would then grunt and open his mouth only slightly to pluck the treat out of Richie’s waiting fingers. He would then go right back to leaning his head in his hand, eyes closed. Not even the steaming cup of black coffee Mike placed in front of him seemed enough to rouse him properly.

 

Other than that not much conversation went down as I spooned away at my own bowl of cereal. I confirmed to Mike that Bill was going to take me to some art galleries today but we would be home in the evening for dinner.

 

Mike responded with a nod and made a few notes on what appeared to be a shopping list.

 

Ben entered the kitchen then. I figured he must have been out running because he was sweaty and wearing exercise gear. I then had to avert my eyes or risk popping a boner right at the breakfast table because he started doing some pretty obscene warm down stretches. When had Ben Hanscom become such a babe? It was a mystery. The last time I had seen him his body had still been holding onto that adorable puppy-fat that had rounded out his limbs and middle. The full grown adult that stood in front of me this morning however, was more Adonis than the squishy teddy bear of his youth. How things change I mused self-consciously, rubbing at my stump.

 

“Come on then Rich. Lets go do the shopping.” Mike broke me out of his thoughts with his announcement. Ruffling his hands through Richie’s hair as he walked past to give Bev a chaste kiss on the cheek. He did the same against Bill’s temple (who’s answering grunt was the only sign he was still awake) and squeezed Ben’s arm as he reached around him to start pulling tote bags from a cupboard near the doorway.

 

I was suddenly reminded of last night, and how I thought I had heard Richie and Mike going to bed “together”. In the light of day it seemed a bit ludicrous. If Richie and Eddie were a thing (and how could they _not_ be if they shared a bed) then why would he have been going to bed with Mike? Unless Richie and Eddie’s relationship was… but no, that sort of stuff didn’t really happen in real life did it??

 

I looked across the table to where Richie was slurping the rest of his cereal straight from the bowl. I watched as he rose, dumping the bowl in the sink and then proceeded to kiss everyone goodbye. Only unlike Mike, Richie’s kisses were for _lips only_ it appeared. First Ben, who was still monitoring his pulse distractedly and didn’t seem to notice all that much. Then Bev whose dainty teal-coloured fingernails came up to scratch at his chin playfully.

 

I was dumbly considering whether he was going to make his way around the table to give me one when he leaned over and casually planted one on Bill. It took a few delayed seconds for Bill to realise what had happened before his eyes were shooting open and he was squeaking a highpitched “RICHIE!” to the kitchen.

 

I flinched in my seat at the strong reaction.

 

Bill was staring at Richie. Well actually more like glaring at him. Then he was looking to me. Then back to Richie. And then Richie was looking at me and I felt like I was missing something.

 

Finally Richie threw his hands up in surrender. “Don’t be mad at _me_ Big B. Its not _my_ fault you haven’t explained yet” he stated jovially as though whatever was going on right now amused him greatly.

 

“Richie I swear to g-god...” Bill was growling, his cheeks were flaring but I couldn’t ascertain whether it was out of anger or embarrassment. Honestly I didn’t really see what the big deal was.

 

Mike came to the rescue eventually, breaking the tension with a “C’mon trouble-maker. Lets go.” And he was swinging one muscular arm around Richie’s gangly personage and guiding him out of the kitchen.

 

“Better do something about that elephant Big Biiiiiilllll” we could all hear Richie still sing-songing from the front hall and then a slam of a door.

 

I looked to my brother who was staring down at the table-top, apparently trying to burn a hole right into the wood with his stare.

 

I looked to Bev who shrugged.

 

_What the hell?!_

 

A seed of thought had started to grow in my mind though. Richie was obviously a very affectionate guy, that didn’t really surprise me. He’d been that way for as long as I could remember. Personal space wasn’t really in his vocabulary. Maybe _that’s_ why he had been sleeping in Mike’s bed. He obviously just really relished being close to his friends. Yes that must be it. But why would that bother Bill so much? It was like he thought I would be disapproving or something.

 

Of course I wasn’t disapproving. Richie was Richie and always _would be_ Richie. It was sweet really, how much he seemed to love and cherish his friends.

 

Continuing to think this over I slowly got up from the table and carefully carried my bowl to the sink.

 

Water rinsing my cereal down the drain, my gaze wandered out of the open window set above the sink. It was letting in warm beams of sunlight and I took a moment to inhale the scent of the little herb garden that sat on the window sill.

 

My mother was a bit of a gardener and so most of the small plants where ones I could recognise. There was mint, and basil and parsley and… _Mike and Richie making out against Mike’s truck?!_

 

I felt like I was seeing something naughty, something forbidden. My jaw dropped open. Yep, they were really doing that, the whole kissing thing. Out in the open, in broad daylight, I could see _tongues_. Right there, Richie caged in against Mike’s beat up old truck that he’d been driving since I was 11 years old. It was the first time I had ever seen two men kissing before outside of movies and porn. My mind felt like it was full of static.

 

I felt a presence at my side and realised Ben had come over to grab a cup from the drying rack and was pushing it beneath the still-running tap water. I flushed with embarrassment as my eyes quickly darted back to the spectacle outside, and then back over to Ben.

 

He frowned at my expression and followed my gaze.

 

To my astonishment he gave no indication of surprise. In fact he snorted. With a one-shouldered shrug he murmured “Ask Bill” and strolled away.

 

_Ok…?_

 

I tried to re-collect my thoughts. Mike and Richie had broken apart now and I watched pink-cheeked and slightly mesmerised as Mike appeared to be dragging Richie around to the passenger side door by his ear. Kind of like a misbehaving child. Richie was giggling, though I couldn’t hear it from where I was standing.

 

It was playful. Loving. Intimate. Familiar.

 

Maybe I needed to amend my previous thoughts about Richie. Maybe I needed to rethink _everything._  I  _definitely_ needed to change Richie and Eddie’s relationship status officially to _‘open’_ now. As much as the thought didn’t really compute with anything I thought I had understood about relationships before.

 

I knew I needed to talk to Bill. But that was easier said than done. This wasn’t nighttime where secrets could be spoken in between the safety of duvet covers.

 

And Bill was… _Bill_. So closed-off sometimes. So unwilling to speak unless poked and prodded. I was his _brother_ and even _I_ couldn’t always understand just what was ticking away in that brain hidden behind those blue eyes. Just _how much_ he was feeling but not allowing himself to show.

 

So I bided my time, waiting for an opportunity. We talked casually of unimportant things as I marveled over buying my first subway ticket and descending underground to travel back into the city.

 

For the next hour I was a bit too wide-eyed and overwhelmed to think of much of anything as the sights and sounds and smells of New York City washed over my senses. Bill laughed at my giddiness a lot but I didn’t care. I took so many photos I had to change my memory card. And that was all just on the walk to the gallery.

 

The Guggenheim was… breath-taking. It’s white walls that spiraled up towards heaven. Masterpieces by artists even _I_ recognised mixed in with obscure beauties that made Bill mumble to himself, his eyes wide and shining.

 

I wasn’t as into art as Bill was but I loved the way _he_ loved showing me everything. It made me feel warm and tingly all over.

 

But I didn’t forget my mission. As we sat down in the gallery cafe for coffee, I pounced.

 

“So Eddie and Richie huh...”

 

I saw Bill smile softly. Almost sheepish.

 

“Yeah… they been g-going out since we muh-moved here. Only a little bit l-longer than muh-me and Stan.”

 

I munched casually on my oatmeal cookie, watching Bill’s face closely as I delivered my next words. “Right… but… its not only Richie and Eddie am I right…?”

 

I saw the blood rush to my brothers round cheeks, but other than that he gave away nothing else. “What-- what do you mean?” his words clipped and careful.

 

“Well their relationship… its not-- what do you call it? Its not exactly… _monogamous_ is it?” the foreign word felt odd in my mouth but I was too distracted by the little cracks showing through in my brothers facade.

 

“Um… what m-makes you say that?” he was nervous. My brother was actually nervous. But then his eyes widened and his eyebrows arched dramatically behind his bangs. “Did R-richie say something?! I c-cuh-can explain!” His voice literally cracked on those last few words. 

 

“Chill out Bill” I responded, alarmed by his heightened mood. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t _mind”_ I chuckled trying to lighten things up. I punched a fist gently against his shoulder. “It was just a little hard to ignore ya know… when I saw Mike and Richie making out in the driveway before they went shopping this morning.”

 

Bill looked mildly perplexed. “Mike… and Richie?” he murmured weakly.

 

“Mmhmm.” I smiled at him over my mug, taking a sip.

 

My brother sighed. “Right. Well… yeah it wasn’t always like th-that. It just s-sort of… happened.”

 

“I see...”

 

“And uhh, there’s something else too...” Bill’s eyes lowered to his cup. He seemed hesitant to continue.

 

“What, you finally going to explain to me why you haven’t called me in the last 15 months??” I snarked.

 

My brother's head whipped up at that, eyebrows scrunched together. He tilted his head to the side and then shook it abruptly, like he was trying to dislodge something from his ear.

 

“Wait _what_?! It can’t have been _that_ long can it?” he stared at me searchingly.

 

“Yes Billy. It’s really been that long. Why can’t you remember shit like this?” I couldn’t help the acerbic tone from creeping into my voice like a poison.

 

Silence reigned for a number of seconds.

 

“I don’t know...” Bill moaned quietly, and I was a little taken aback by the sudden dip in his mood. “I don’t understand it either” he continued. Staring down at his hands on the table. Clenching and releasing them. “I-It’s like everything before c-coming here is fuzzy and its only coming back to muh-me slowly. Like one of those old black and white movies where the s-sound doesn’t wuh-w-work and the picture keeps cutting out! I don’t f-fucking get it!!”

 

“Hey hey Billy its okay its okay” my hand grasped for his shoulder, fingers rubbing at the back of his neck. “Breathe. I’m just trying to understand okay? That’s all. Does this… does this have anything to do with the clown…?”

 

“C-c-clown…?” Bill looked so pitiful and confused with tears welling at the corner of his eyes.

 

I stared at him stunned. “Yeah the-- the clown. You don’t remember?” I felt the phantom torture of my arm being ripped from my body all over again and I grimaced as I watched my brother stare at me blankly. My mind was reeling. How could he not remember?! Was this part of Pennywise’s trickery? Like when my father would absently ask if I was going to try out for the baseball team as if he had completely forgotten that his son only had one arm? Or my mother would look at me in confusion for a few seconds when I would remind her about taking me to an appointment with my prosthetist?

 

Looking at Bill now, so lost and out of control. Distrustful of his own mind, scared too probably – I made a decision. If I could save him from the pain then I would. Gladly. I would do anything for him.

 

“Never mind Brother B. It’s not important” I plastered a fake grin across my face.

 

My brother mumbled something down towards his coffee cup. His fist turning his biscotti to sad, little crumbs.

 

“What?”

 

“I said _y-your’re_ important Georgie.” Bill looked up at me, tears still threatening to fall but doing nothing to diminish his determined expression.

 

I didn’t know what to say to that. But Bill continued.

 

“It’s like now you are here, everything has come b-back. But before it was like you were there, but you… you _paled_ in comparison to everything else... I knew I had a little brother, b-but you just kind of hovered like a dull p-puh-painting in the back of my mind... I didn’t feel the need to look at you. You weren’t important. I don’t _ever_ want that to happen again!”

 

I shook my head confusedly, trying to resist the urge that wanted me to crawl into my brothers lap and seek comfort. To cement my place in his life.

 

“It won’t Bill. We’ll… we’ll do something. We’ll fix it.” I rasped, trying to believe my own words.

 

“I th-think it has something to do with Derry.” Bill continued, staring off into the middle-distance now, as though his mind had flown far away. Perhaps back in time to a small town up north. “Mike’s Grandad says the town is c-cursed and… and I know some f-fucked up shit went down there I just c-c-can’t remember what.” His eyes glided back to fix on me again. “You’re being careful aren’t you Georgie?”

 

Without being able to remember the clown I wondered what “being careful” could possibly mean to the young man staring earnestly at me.

 

“Yes Bill” I thought of my prosaic life back in Derry. Better boring than dead I supposed. “I’m being careful.”

 

\-----

 

We walked to the next art gallery. About 17 blocks. A photogenic walk along the outside of Central Park. Bill took my hand a few times and I let him. To be honest his neediness kind of tickled me. Not just because it was Bill and I had always kind of craved his attention like an addict. But also the thrill of just being two males holding hands and… _no one caring_. That was… new, different. I liked it.

 

Plus he was on my prosthetic side so it wasn’t like it was that bothersome, I couldn’t even feel it. But I didn’t bother to point that out to Bill.

 

Stan met us outside of The Frick. He was loitering against the fence of this huge old mansion. A model posing in designer sunglasses, as if straight out of a fashion magazine, tapping away on his phone. I was considering whether to take a photo of him but suddenly he was looking up and waving to us. I didn’t realise that the gallery _was_ the mansion until Stan turned and started ambling slowly up the stone steps as we approached.

 

“This art is much more Stan’s style. He doesn’t like the Guggenheim” Bill murmured with a wry smile.

 

Once we were inside clutching our entrance tickets and thoroughly warned by men in sharp suits not to touch _anything_ , I had to admit, I agreed with Stan.

 

Each room was more breathtaking than the last. Like a page ripped right out of a history book or some sort of romantic novel that I would never admit to reading. There were small intimate sitting rooms, warm glass-windowed sun rooms filled with plants and statues, literal ballrooms with high ceilings and wood paneling. And of course, painting upon painting upon painting adorned every wall.

 

I almost felt like if I breathed too hard I might damage their delicate beauty.

 

Maybe that’s why Stan liked them so much. He kind of looked like he belonged in one of these paintings. Maybe wearing a toga and playing a lyre... or perhaps naked and frolicking with some nymphs. Again I was overcome with the urge to take a photo of the man. Of the serious face he made as he studied the pieces closely, eyes swishing back and forth. _But..._ I’d already gotten in trouble twice with the security guards who’d sternly told me to _“stay on the carpet”._ Now they were suspiciously eyeing the camera that hung around my neck like it was a bomb or something. I was almost _sure_ one of them was tailing me from room to room.

 

I also watched Bill closely. Intrigued and curious to see how he would act around his boyfriend. He’d had no problem clinging to my hand on the street so I was expecting much the same treatment for Stan. Bill had always had no qualms about showing affection. Big softie that he was.

 

I was somewhat disappointed to see… well… not much of anything really. No holding hands, no arms around waists. Nothing but a quick peck when we’d met up outside. Maybe Bill was shy? Or maybe Stan was? But that didn’t seem quite right.

 

After we had had our fill of the beautiful manor, we wandered our way into Central Park.

 

“You know you don’t have to feel weird around me” I flicked Bill on his arm as we trudged along. Stan was a few steps behind us taking a work call.

 

“W-what do you mean?” Bill blinked in my direction.

 

“You can hold hands with your boyfriend if you want. I don’t mind” I just pressed on, trying to sound casual.

 

To my surprise Bill laughed.

 

“I would if I could. He won’t let me. Stan hates that kind of stuff.”

 

I looked back to the blonde walking behind us and considered him. He was just so different from me and everything I was used to. I couldn’t help feeling under-dressed and somewhat inferior around him. It made me wonder what my brother saw in him. He was starting to seem less like a beautiful painting and more like a marble statue. Cold and distant and untouchable.

 

I looked back to Bill who was smiling all soft and soppy and my insides squirmed with a weird protectiveness. I just wanted him to be treated right. Stan _better_ be treating him right.

 

My negative thoughts were somewhat belayed though not fifteen minutes later.

 

I'm a romantic, I know this about myself.

 

And who couldn’t believe in love when you saw two people stealing kisses over by the pretzel stand when they thought you were busy taking photos of the Bethesda Fountain??

 

I felt kind of bad.

 

\-----

 

I had felt even worse that evening when Stan had approached me and invited me to come bird-watching with him early the next morning.

 

“Bev will be there” he’d added, maybe noticing my hesitance. And yes, that did make things a little easier. I had this niggling feeling that Stan might yell at me if I messed up his bird-watching. Which was kind of irrational since Stan had _never_ yelled at me in my entire life. But still… I felt better knowing Bev would be there to protect me from any _potential_ yellings.

 

And so I'd said yes. Like an idiot. Because when Stan said early, he really meant _early_.

 

Bill had both kicked me _and_ punched me when my alarm had gone off at _fuck-off-o’clock_. Bastard.

 

Bev had looked… less than good as she ambled around the kitchen making toast and coffee and putting it in containers. Her shawl dragging along the ground by her socked feet.

 

There wasn’t much talking on the drive. Bev practically still snoring against the window and Stan stoically looking ahead. Not even some music playing or _something._ I felt out of place but tried to cover by messing around with my inventory of lenses.

 

“I thought…” Stan broke the silence and I looked up at his pale profile from my position in the back seat. “… perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking some photos for me. Of the birds.”

 

Before then I really hadn’t quite understood why I had been invited along. This was _Stan’s_ thing, not mine. But in that moment it suddenly made sense.

 

Yes this was _Stan’s_ thing… and he wanted to share it with _me_.

 

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth. My brother’s boyfriend was… well he wanted to spend time with me. He was making an effort.

 

“Sure. I can do that” I responded and watched Stan’s curls bounce as he nodded slightly in response.

 

After that I managed to relax a bit more. Bird-watching was actually kind of fun. Back home I’d gotten into the habit of taking long, solo nature rambles to take photos of leaves and flowers and plants and such. Just for practice really. There was a beautiful symmetry to nature that not many people noticed until you captured it on film. This wasn’t much different to that.

 

But the birds weren’t the only things I was watching. Bev and Stan… the way they were around each other was… fascinating.

 

Bev was a lot like Richie in some ways. She didn’t really know the meaning of personal space.

 

But this was something else entirely.

 

I was a few yards away, pretending to take a photo of a flower (I’d gotten the shot around 10 clicks ago). I was really focusing my lens towards the girl and boy sitting perfectly still together in the clearing we had chosen. Almost like they were one living, breathing entity.

 

Stan cross-legged with perfect posture. Binoculars around his neck, a bird book balanced on one knee and his own camera balanced on the other. Bev was practically wrapped around him. Like she was huddling for warmth even though the early-morning cool had died away with the rising of the sun. Sat directly behind him, his back hugged against her chest. Short legs bracketing either side of him and delicate dancer-like arms wrapped around his middle. I could see his lips moving slightly, meaning he was probably explaining what sort of bird they were supposedly looking at. Not that Bev was looking, I could see her eyes were closed from where she was nuzzled against the back of his shoulder. She would rub her chin up and down in a nod every now and then to show she was still listening though.

 

It was striking really. They were both very attractive people and made a pretty portrait but... it was just a little… weird. Hadn’t Bill said just yesterday that Stan didn’t like physical affection all that much??

 

And if he didn’t even like it from his _boyfriend…_ then what the fuck did you call _this?!_ I looked down at where the dew-laden grass was glistening and seeping into my corduroys. Something in my stomach felt kind of… icky.

 

Movement caught my attention. Stan was lifting his hand and extending it back to give Bev an awkward _pat pat_ to her head. I guess that’s what passed for tenderness from someone like Stanley Uris.

 

Apparently it amused Bev because then she lent forward and left a lingering kiss against his neck. I watched as Stan smirked and turned his head slightly into it.

 

I felt hot all of a sudden, a lightning fast sting that sizzled from my stomach down to my groin and bounced back up to make my ears feel like they had caught on fire. That wasn’t… that didn’t seem… _friendly_. It seemed...

 

And suddenly I remembered something else. Something from last night. I had had this same feeling last night.

 

Mike had made homemade pizzas for dinner and afterwards some of us had settled into the living room with our respective wines and beers to watch a movie. Captain America: Winter Soldier was playing on the screen and I had been pretty buzzed. I still wasn’t used to beer being given to me so freely.

 

I’d been splitting my attention between the TV and Eddie and Ben. They had been cuddled up on the loveseat and it… had been kinda cute.

 

Eddie was practically in Ben’s lap, his relative smallness meaning his head fit perfectly under Ben’s chin. They’d seemed quite content, Ben occasionally rubbing a hand up and down Eddie’s side and being rewarded with a happy sigh.

 

Eddie had been tanked too. As Richie had been gleeful to point out to him with a cackle. But Eddie had only given him the finger and snuggled in closer to Ben like an adoring puppy.

 

Of course he’d fallen asleep against Ben early in the film. But Ben didn’t seem to mind. And neither did Bev as she came in about half an hour later from wherever she had previously been. My drunk mind couldn’t supply the information. She sat on the arm of the loveseat and lent over Eddie’s sleeping head to whisper to Ben. He’d nodded.

 

A fight scene blasted across the flat screen but my eyes were glued to the way Ben gingerly kissed the side of Eddie’s head and nosed along his cheek until he woke up. Bev leaned over and whispered to him too and with a sleepy smile he nodded and clung more closely to Ben’s muscular torso. The larger guy shook his head amusedly and proceeded to stand up with Eddie cradled in his arms as though he weighed nothing.

 

He whispered good night to us as he followed Bev up the stairs. There had been nothing necessarily out of the ordinary about that... and yet it still left a slightly churny feeling in my stomach.

 

And that hadn’t been all. A little bit later Stan had walked in too. A glass of wine in one hand and the other one sinking into Richie’s hair as he stood behind the couch Richie and I had been sitting on.

 

Richie had made pleased sounds and crooked a smile up at him before returning his gaze to the TV. As I was sitting right next to them, I could this time hear the conversation when Stan asked where Eddie was.

 

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Richie smirked and replied.

 

“With Bev and Ben. I think they are reading him a bedtime story” he murmured.

 

“I see” Stan took a sip as he continued to rub his hand back and forth across Richie’s scalp. Another few seconds and his quiet, perfectly serious voice posed another question. “Would _you_ like a bedtime story Richie?” Something about the way he said it made a small shiver pass through me. I was staring straight ahead at the TV but couldn’t tell you what was going on in the scene if you’d paid me a million dollars.

 

I felt more than saw Richie look back up at Stan. I didn’t see the look that they shared, but suddenly Richie was standing.

 

“Night Bill. Night Mike. Night Georgie” and suddenly he was nothing but a retreating back bounding up the stairs. Stan had been much more poised as he’d finished his wine and placed the glass gently on the coffee table, murmuring his goodnights before he made his way up the stairs too.

 

I looked over to Bill. Maybe to see if he had witnessed all this bizarre behaviour too. But he was staring at the TV, seemingly unaffected but for the queer way his fingers seemed to be clenched into his legs. I looked over to Mike who just shrugged and smiled at me.

 

And so I… let it go.

 

But I couldn’t let this go anymore! What _the fuck_ was going on?!

 

There was something that I was missing here!! Something that I wasn’t being told that I’m sure would just… allow everything to _make sense!!_

 

Friends weren’t meant to be this close! Neck-kissing, hair-rubbing, lap-sittingly close! It was _weird_ dammit!

 

The harder I thought about it, the more I realised maybe they hadn’t been reading bedtime stories last night!

 

What was I saying, _of course_ I knew they weren’t reading bedtime stories! What I mean is, maybe they were doing _other things._

 

But that didn’t make sense! Richie was with Eddie! Oh and Mike too – mustn't forget Mike. And yet, I'm almost certain Eddie had gone to bed with Ben and Bev last night! And I’d seen Richie asleep in Stan’s room this morning when we’d met in the hall. And now Stan and Bev… they were, _they were_ … Stan and Bev were too! But Stan was with Bill!! So that must mean…

 

It clicked.

 

My jaw dropped.

 

\-----

 

“Bev, Stan. Can we go?” I stood stiffly beside their seated forms.

 

Bev shielded her eyes as she looked up at me. “You okay hon? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

I shuffled my feet.

 

“I uh. Yeah I’m sorry to want to leave early. I just… I need to speak to Bill. Urgently.”

 

“Can’t you call him?” Stan questioned, there was a crease between his eyebrows.

 

“No” I stated coldly. “I need to see him.”

 

\-----

 

Bill looked like he had just rolled out of bed when I walked into his room. He was lazily tying his shoelaces.

 

I slammed the door to get his attention.

 

“It’s all of you isn’t. All of you. _T_ _ogether._ ”

 

Bill looked up at me with wide eyes. I stared right back at him.

 

“ _Isn’t it Bill!”_ I barked.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. Took him about a day and a bit but Georgie has finally worked out whats up. And now we get to see how he reacts to it. :D Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please let me know what you thought. xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter carries on directly from the previous one. It's long, too long in fact. I thought I was going to wrap everything up in this one but it got too long. Enjoy!
> 
> Oh and please note the new warning tags - this chapter alludes to childhood abuse. Nothing explicit but I wouldn't want anyone getting a nasty shock.

Bill looked up at me with wide eyes. I stared right back at him.

 

“ _Isn’t it Bill!”_  I barked.

 

Bill put both his hands over his eyes. Rubbing them back and forth a few times, he finally smoothed them over his scalp to the back of his head.

 

“What happened? How d-did you figure it uh-out?” he said, almost sounding tired.

 

I clenched my fist. “Nothing _happened_. I just worked it out by myself. I’m right aren’t I? You’re all… _together_ aren’t you. Like there’s no _you and Stan_. No _Eddie and Richie_. No nothing! Its just all of you isn’t it?!” I accused.

 

My brother just looked at me with those infuriatingly soulful eyes.

 

“Yes” he said in a low tone. “H-how do you f-feel about that?”

 

I was taken aback by the question. I hadn’t been expecting this calm acceptance. This serene admittance. He didn't even _try_ and deny it. If it was true... which seemed to be the mind-boggling case... how _did_ I feel about the situation? I had been so fuelled with anger at the _Bill-lying-to-me_ bit that my brain hadn’t really gotten any further than that just yet.

 

I swayed on the spot as Bill just continued to look at me. I chewed on my lip a bit, still feeling the phantom desire to chew on my right thumbnail, even though my right thumbnail had not existed for years.

 

“I… I don’t feel anything about it I guess...”

 

I approached Bill slowly, who just swiveled to face me as I took a seat on the bed beside him.

 

“I mean… I dunno" I continued. "How am I _supposed_ to feel about finding out my brother is in a relationship with six people at the same time? That’s what it is right? Its not just like... Richie fuc-screwing around with everyone or something?”

 

“No” Bill replied simply. “It’s all of us. We’re all d-doing the fucking around.”

 

I sucked a breath through my teeth at the candid declaration.

 

“Bev?” I questioned shyly.

 

“Yep.” My brother's tone was matter-of-fact.

 

“Even _Ben?_ ”

 

“ _Oh yeah"._

 

That smug tone with that suggestive eyebrow raise... the insinuation laced into that statement made me blush and I dropped my gaze to the rumpled bedspread.

 

“Huh...”

 

“T-take your time George… it’s… it’s a lot I know… I wuh-wuh- _wanted_ to tell you I just… I didn’t know how…”

 

I shrugged at that. I guess I could understand. Its not exactly an everyday occurrence.

 

But then again, these were no _ordinary_ group of individuals.

 

What they went through together… even though they may have forgotten, _I_ hadn’t forgotten.

 

It was kind of freaky how easily I could remember back to that time. Bill had waited awhile before telling me the " _Full Story"_. But he _had_ told me. He’d told me everything, sparing none of the gory details. He said I had deserved that at the time. It was a lot for a 7 year old to take in. But I had loved him for that.

 

I wasn’t a Loser with a capital ‘L’. I didn’t have a club to fall back on after everything that happened. The others may have acted like my adopted siblings but… it just wasn’t the same. I wasn't part of that unbreakable circle.

 

But as the saying goes, knowledge is power. And Bill, by telling me everything, he had made me feel so powerful. So strong.

 

It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he did that for everyone else too.

 

“I guess it makes sense” I murmured thumbing at one of my shoelaces. “You guys _are_ kind of soulmates. Always been freaky-close with each other.”

 

I peeked up through my bangs just in time to see Bill smiling as he huffed out a laugh.

 

“We like to think of it that way. The soulmates thing. Though I guess the freaky-close thing is accurate too.”

 

It was weird. How _not weirded out_ I was by this. The more I thought about it... the more it seemed to make sense. Maybe Pennywise had fucked us all up beyond repair.

 

But like… these stupid twenty-something year olds were my _family_. And they were _happy_. They loved each other _so much_ _,_ there was no question about that.

 

In the end, who gave a fuck what society thought was _normal??_ Not this bisexual, amputee, supernatural abduction survivor.

 

“In a way I’m kind of jealous...” I mused into the silence. “Must be nice to have the attention of six people. I can’t even get the attention of one...”

 

“Oh Georgie...” Bill huffed indulgently, reaching over to ruffle my hair and hook his arm around to pull me in for a cuddle.

 

\-----

 

Now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag I got to spend the rest of my NYC visit observing firsthand just how a polyamorous seven-way relationship could work.

 

I have to say... overall... it was a pretty pleasant experience. Strange, but pleasant. Like I’ve mentioned before, I’m a sucker for romance. My secret collection of Nicholas Sparks can attest to that.

 

And my brothers freaky-deaky overly-populated relationship… it was just _nice_. There didn’t seem to be any jealousy, any favouritism. They all just… fit.

 

And they included me in it too.

 

Not like… _included me_ -included me – that would have been weird.

 

But ya see, Bill still had work and classes to go to. He couldn't be with me 24-7, especially after I found out he had been skipping class and cancelling shifts to spend time with me. Such an idiot, I refused to be the reason my brother failed at college. When I'd found out, I'd made a show of removing my prothesis, handing it to Richie and asking him to whack my brother over the head with it. That had gotten laughs from everyone, but more importantly, had given my brother a kick in the butt to get back to honoring his schedule.

 

And so, I found myself spending time with the other Losers one-on-one more than I think I ever had before. Which again, was kind of weird (I mean, my brother had always been around whenever we'd hung out when I was younger) but also kind of cool. They didn't seem to mind that I was quiet, didn't complain when I took their photos, and seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing with my life back in Derry.

 

Eddie was absolutely _scandalised_ to discover that I didn’t have an Instagram page.

 

"This is not ok Georgie! What do you mean you don't have one!"

 

"Why would I need one..."

 

Eddie was a commanding presence standing there in all his 5'6 glory listing reasons off on his fingers. "To keep in touch with friends, to stalk hot people, to look at pictures of food you don't get to eat, to stalk hot friends, dog photos, cool pics of cars you'll never be able to afford, did I mention you can stalk all your hot friends...? Like that Swedish guy you eat lunch with that Bill got me to look up for him the other day...??"

 

Blood rushed through the capillaries of my cheeks. "He's Finnish" I mumbled making a mental note to kill my brother later.

 

"He's hot without his shirt on is what he is. You would  _know_ this if you had an Instagram!" Eddie responded flippantly, a mischievous smirk developing on his lips.

 

And that was that.  I tried very, very hard to convince him that I didn’t need one, but he just wouldn’t listen and insisted on setting one up for me anyway. Apparently Eddie was _really_ into his social media.

 

And that wasn’t all. Apparently in order to have an Instagram you also had to have a _“totally gawj”_ profile pic.

 

Eddie should have been studying to be a lawyer instead of a paramedic. The look on his face when I tried to suggest _not_ having a selfie as my profile pic… that look of disapproval _alone_ could win supreme court cases.

 

You’d think my big brother would have saved me from this clear case of bullying. You’d be wrong. Bill was such a push over. One look from those Eddie puppy-dog eyes and he was retreating with some lame excuse about "needing to study" or something. Coward.

 

Next thing I knew a “photoshoot” was being staged in Richie and Eddie’s bedroom. With Stan on standby to provide fashion advice about the outfit choices Eddie was laying out for me.

 

“Come _oooooooooon_ Georgie. You’re such a _babe_. The world needs to see how much of a _babe_ you are!” Eddie trilled as he pushed my bangs back away from my face and huffed when they fell back in exactly the same spot.

 

I saw no truth in that statement as my stomach roiled unhappily. There was a  _reason_  there were no selfies in my phone. _Bill_ was the handsome one. I was just the cheap knock-off version with sandy hair and a gimpy arm. 

 

I tried to explain that to Eddie and... he just looked so sad and heartbroken that... well it turns out I am just as susceptible to Eddie’s puppy-dog eyes as the next sucker. And so, I grudging donned an outfit and tried to do as Eddie said as he bounced around with Stan’s camera.

 

It… didn’t go well. I was not a photogenic person. No matter what anyone said. I liked being _behind_ the camera, not in front of it. And no amount of compliments was going to change that. I still looked like I was trying to hold in a fart in every single photo.

 

If he wasn’t being such a tyrant I would have almost felt sorry for Eddie and his pursed lips as he scrolled through the photos, Stan remaining poker-faced as he looked over Eddie's shoulder.

 

I just stood there with my arms crossed and an _I-told-you-so_ expression, waiting for Eddie to put the kibosh on the whole thing.

 

To his credit though, Eddie stuck to his guns, unfurrowed his eyebrows and cheerily suggested _“maybe its the outfit”_ and made me go change. I rolled my eyes, but did as I was told.

 

The one good thing to come out of this torture was the entertainment factor though. It was kind of funny to see just how quickly Stan and Eddie could descend into chaotic arguments over camera angles and which way my fringe should be swished and whether a collar should be popped or not. They were two very stubborn and opinionated personalities and well… they weren’t afraid to raise their voices... I kind of felt like I was on some sort of reality show.

 

The photoshoot had ended abruptly when at one point Stan had stormed away screaming “YOU’RE MAKING HIM UNCOMFORTABLE EDDIE!!!”

 

Eddie had huffed, yelled a few choice words after Stan's retreating back and then sulked up the stairs to the attic. Probably in search of a sympathetic ear from Mike. Leaving me free to strip off the designer shirt and jeans that I had been dressed in. They were so laughably far out of my price range that I actually hung them up instead of dumping them on the floor like I did all my other clothes.

 

That night I'd seen Eddie approach Stan after dinner and murmur what sounded like an apology. I decided not to eavesdrop as I helped clear the table and start the washing up with Bev. A couple of minutes later Eddie had appeared beside me, looking fidgety with a chagrined expression.

 

"You know you don't have to put selfies on there if you don't want to right Georgie? It can just be for your photography if you want. It's just, you're so talented and I just, I just thought...  people use it to promote their art all the time. You don't have to show your face though. Only if you're comfortable. I'm sorry if I was being pushy. But it's like... you're handsome too. And I wish you could see that and I want other people to see that. But yeah I know I can be bossy sometimes and I'm sorry."

 

By now I was getting used to the rapid-fire way Eddie tended to talk and so I was able to get the general gist of what he was trying to say. And again with those big, brown, watery Kaspbrak eyes. The apology was so sincere I kind of felt bad. He'd just been trying to help me, and the photoshoot _had_ been kind of fun, in its own fucked up way. I was happy to reassure him of all that until he was smiling and hip-checking me again. 

 

In the end no photos from the disastrous photoshoot were used for my userpic. Instead, Eddie put up a photo that Stan had taken of me. I hadn’t even realised the tall, blonde had been taking my photo at the time – it was from the morning we went bird-watching. It was profile and from a distance. Not as scary-intimate as a selfie. I was reaching up and pulling a hibiscus blossom down to smell it. Even I had to admit, it was kind of cute.

 

And so I allowed it.

 

When I finally got around to logging on for the first time, I already had 7 followers. I smiled privately down at my phone.

 

\-----

 

Ben was another Loser I had never spent a lot of one-on-one time with before. For no other reason it seemed besides the fact that we were both kind of shy.

 

At first I noticed him eyeing my prosthesis now and then. I didn’t mind that so much. It _was_ an oddity and people were often curious about it. It still took Ben a couple of days to finally get up the courage to approach me though.

 

Some people could be awfully insensitive about things like this but Ben… he was _genuinely_ curious about the mechanics of it. It was kind of adorable!

 

Once we finally pushed past our mutual social awkwardness, we ended up spending a whole afternoon with him just peppering me with question after question about it (in between cups of tea). How it worked, why I’d chosen it over my other options, what were my limitations, is there anything I still had difficulty with. All sorts.

 

It was a weird mixture of me preening under the attention, whilst also feeling uneasy that the greatest source of my self-consciousness was under scrutiny. From someone who looked like  _Ben_ no less. But I pushed through because Ben seemed to be in his element and was just so happy and inquisitive, I couldn't help getting swept up in his nerdy enthusiasm.

 

The look on his face when I eventually just took my prosthetic limb off and told him he could have it for the rest of the night to examine… you would of thought I’d just told him we were going to Disneyland or something.

 

He was grinning when he brought it back to me the next morning. He seemed excited about something.

 

“I think-- if you’d like, I think I could maybe do something to help with your photography. An adjustment that will give you more dexterity in clicking the shutter button. I did some sketches last night...”

 

He was blushing and I noticed he was clutching a notebook to his side.

 

I was kind of in shock. He... he wanted to make adjustments... to my prosthesis?? I stared at him dumbly as he gave me this heart-meltingly shy smile.

 

And then... I basically fell in love with him over the next hour as we sat at the kitchen table and he showed me the cradle he had thought of that would allow me to hold the camera steady AND poise a finger-like extension over the shutter button. There would be a lever that would be controlled by my other hand to initiate the finger-extension.

 

I didn’t quite get the mechanics of it but FUCK ME I was excited about it.

 

And not only that. Ben told me all about the websites that he had visited for research. The discussion boards and communities that were online of people like me. I’d… I’d never even _thought_ of that… of trying to connect with people like myself. I just figured I would always be the only one. The gimpy kid of Derry with no friends. But no, there were hundreds, no thousands of others out there like me. I'd just been too dumb, no _too scared_ to look outside of myself. Ben smiled knowingly as he texted me the links to the websites.

 

I felt like crying.

 

Bill _had_ cried when I told him about what Ben wanted to do for me.

 

Big baby. 

 

Big emotional baby who I spotted making out furiously with Ben at the bottom of the stairs later that night.

 

“Thank you” I heard him whisper against Ben’s lips.

 

“For what?” Ben chuckled running a gentle thumb across my brother’s cheek.

 

“For Georgie...” Bill amended and nothing else really had to be said and I left them to it with a severe flush adorning my cheeks and a warm tingly feeling in my chest.

 

\-----

 

Physical affection as a whole had saturated the household once again now that I knew they were all lovesick idiots dating each other. For the most part I pretty much ate it up with a spoon (though they really _should_ invest in sound-proofing the walls more – how did _anyone_ get enough sleep in this house??). Being the loner that I was, I enjoyed watching people. And I _especially_ enjoyed watching people I cared about being in love.

 

And I _had_ been right about Richie. He was definitely the biggest Cuddle Slut out of all of them. If he’d been holding back before (which I doubt he had been really) well now… he was just something else.

 

Bill still yelled at him sometimes. I mean, I got where he was coming from. There were just _some things_ I DID NOT need to know about my brother’s ass and what he liked to put up there.

 

But other times when Richie was just being sweet and needy and not a crude idiot, I could tell Bill loved giving him all the kisses and cuddles he wanted.

 

And he wanted _a lot._

 

Like the time I had gone out grocery shopping with Mike and him. It seemed like it was their little weekly ritual. But it had to be bi-weekly this week I guess because I was here and the food had run out.

 

Richie had _literally_ jumped on Mike’s back and ridden him into the store yelling “Hi-yo Mikey away!”

 

It was lucky Richie was a stringbean and Mike was jacked as hell because Richie hadn’t hopped down until we’d turned down our third aisle and Mike had sent him on an errand back to one of the aisles we’d already been through.

 

It hadn’t escaped my notice how Richie would actually _ask_ what Mike wanted him to go get next. How he would practically preen every time Mike smiled and thanked him politely when he would return with the requested item.

 

Mike was just like that though. So calm, so paternal. You _wanted_ to please him. To make him smile.

 

But that didn’t mean Richie wasn’t still a little shit who tried to sneak treats into the cart when Mike wasn’t looking.

 

“Richie no! You _know_ the artificial colouring in that candy sends your ADHD haywire!”

 

The words were firm but they weren’t scolding. They were murmured in that honeyed tone and I practically shivered when Mike had leaned right into Richie’s space and told him to go get him some granny smith apples so he could bake him a pie as a sweet treat instead.

 

“You know you’re spoiling him right?” I laughed as Richie’s crazily-patterned shirt and suspenders disappeared around the end of the aisle.

 

“I know...” Mike sighed with a sickeningly devoted look in his eyes. “I can’t help it. He’s my sugar. It’s sugar for _My Sugar_.” He elbowed me good-naturedly and resumed his examining of different prices for rice.

 

I rubbed my arm self-consciously. I couldn’t help wondering if _I_ would ever feel the love of someone that could compare to what Mike felt for his partners.

 

So you can imagine the absolute _horror_ I felt when on the drive home I somehow managed to sour Mike’s ever-sweet disposition.

 

I hadn’t meant to. Richie had just asked me what my plans were for my last full day in town.

 

“Not much. Just a shopping trip with Bevvie. I think we’re going to hit up some thrift stores or something.”

 

Richie hummed in acknowledgement and silence fell over the cab of the truck again. It was short-lived though as we pulled up at a red light.

 

I jumped in my seat as Mike suddenly slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

 

“No, no, no. Uh uh. _No_. Don’t call her that.”

 

He looked around at me with a sort of heated expression that I had _never_ seen on Mike’s face before. It was… it wasn’t quite anger… it was… I don’t know what it was. His eyebrows were scrunched and his lips were pursed.

 

“I’m sorry but no. It’s really important that you don’t call her that” he continued, his voice low and grave. He hadn’t even raised it.

 

I was struck dumb. I had no idea what he was talking about and I was feeling hot all over.

 

“Mike what the flipping fuck?!” I watched as Richie’s hand flew in from my periphery to grab at the larger man’s shoulder.

 

Mike looked to Richie. “He-- he just can’t call her that. Beverly. It’s not... it’s not good...” his voice seemed to be losing some of its strength as he slumped back into his seat, sniffing loudly as he jerkily pulled the truck’s parking break off and resumed driving.

 

Beverly. Mike was talking about Beverly? I didn’t understand. _What had I done??_

 

Richie looked back to me. Taking in my lost expression he looked back to Mike. He was still massaging his shoulder. Mike didn’t look back at me again. He didn’t say a word. Call me dramatic but I kind of felt like I wanted to die and I didn’t even understand why.

 

“I’m sorry...” I whispered feeling tears spring up in the corners of my eyes. My throat felt raw.

 

“Don’t be sorry Georgie. You didn’t know. He _didn’t know_ Mikey. Fuck, even _I’d_ forgotten!” Richie clipped, his eyes zooming wildly back and forth between me and Mike’s stiff form.

 

“Yeah well it was never an issue for you" Mike's voice hissed quietly from the front seat. "You never had her waking up in the middle of the night crying and pushing you away because she was scared. Scared because your body was too big, too familiar, too much like _him”_ Mike was half-mumbling by this point as I strained my ears to hear him.

 

“Oh.” Richie sat back in his seat. An uncomfortable silence fell over the cab.

 

I still didn’t quite understand but was too upset to ask. I rubbed my arm and wished I could shrivel up and disappear.

 

When we got back to the house Mike waited until Richie was walking inside laiden with grocery bags before coming around to my car door.

 

I held my breath as I raised my gaze to meet him, but his eyes were back to looking like their normal kind selves. No longer filled with that scary queer energy they'd had before.

 

“I’m sorry Georgie. I didn’t mean to react like that" Mike held my gaze steadily as he gently placed his hands on my shoulders. "It’s a sensitive thing. It’s not my place to say but… somebody used to call her that. _‘Bevvie’_. Somebody bad. Someone who its better if Bev never has to think about again. You understand right?”

 

I didn’t understand. Not really. I had _always_ called her Bevvie. Ever since I was young. She’d never said a thing.

 

But I still nodded. I still accepted the hug that Mike offered and batted back his apologies and enjoyed the feeling of his lips against my temple.

 

I wouldn’t have believed it before… but I now knew that it was possible for Mike Hanlon to feel anger.

 

He _could_ and he _would_ in order to protect his partners.

 

\-----

 

I tried to not let it bother me the next day as I hung out with Bev. I could tell she was excited to take me out. Thrift shops, yard sales, flea markets - they'd kind of become our thing since I was 8 years old and she'd become my unofficial babysitter/Bill's first girlfriend. Any place where there might be old photographs for me to covet and add to my album and old vintage clothing and fabrics for Bev to be inspired by.

 

I'd tried to not let my glumness ruin the day but… I just couldn’t help it. I’d been so distraught at Mike’s reaction… it kept replaying in my mind.

 

“Whats wrong pumpkin? You’ve seemed off all day...” Bev sidled up to where I was looking half-heartedly through a crate of old records. 

 

I looked up from my crouch into her earnest, open expression. I slowly stood up. She only came up to my shoulder, but that had never stopped someone like Beverly from being larger than life. “I guess I do have something on my mind. I just… I don’t know if I should say it…”

 

I watched her eyes crinkle prettily as she gave me a reassuring smile. “Oh darlin'. You can talk to me about anything. You _know_ this.”

 

And I  _did_ know that. My parents had never been the same after I came back. They'd been happy, caring even. But it was somehow like they weren't quite  _present_. More than ever, those first few years Bill and Beverly had become like pseudo-parents to me. Even after their brief romance had been put on ice. I took a calming breath. Steeling myself for maybe hearing something I'd prefer not to. But I just _had to_ know.

 

“It's not like that. It's not about me, it's more about you. It might upset you and I don’t ever want to upset you Bevvi-- _Beverly_.”

 

She look at me. Her nose scrunched. I know I’d nearly tripped up. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice. But of course she noticed. Bev always noticed everything.

 

“I promise I won’t be upset. Please just tell me.” Her tone was soft, but serious. It left no room for argument. 

 

I took a deep breath, feeling my shoulders rise and then fall. “How come you never told me not to call you Bevvie? How come you never told me it was bad?”

 

Bev looked taken aback. She absently pulled her long hair over one shoulder to twist it into a long coil.  “I… I don’t-- where has this _come from_?”

 

My head lowered as I shrunk into myself a little bit. “Mike told me. He said someone used to call you it and that it was a really bad thing and that I shouldn’t do it but like… I’ve _always_ called you that and you never _told me_. And now I just feel like such a shithead" the words tumbled out of my mouth like a tap left running. I couldn't bring myself to look up. I couldn't bear to see what might be lying in those familiar expressive blue-green eyes. 

 

Suddenly Bev was pressing against my chest, her arms wrapping around me as her forehead buried into my collarbone. “Oh, oh sweet boy. I’m sorry. Don’t worry. _Please don’t worry_ , it never bothered me when you did it I promise. I… you’re _definitely_ not the shithead. If anyone’s the shithead its my father.” 

 

“Y-your father?” I inquired slowly.

 

“Yep" Bev looked up at me, her gaze was calm, neutral. "A _grade-A bastard_. Scum of the earth. He was the person Mike was talking about.”

 

“Oh...” I couldn't think what to say. I couldn't think what to do. My arms were pinned against my sides. I'd never heard Bev talk about her birth parents before. There had only ever been her Aunt.

 

By now Bev was looking off into the middle-distance, as though contemplating something. A few weighty seconds and she looked back to me, her expression decisive. She brought her hand up and tapped a finger against my cheek a few times fondly.

 

“Come on pudding. Lets take a walk.”

 

She waited for me to nod slowly before releasing me and beginning to walk away. We exited the shop. I let Bev take the lead as she walked us down the block to a little parkette between two buildings. It was just a little square of green with a few trees and park benches.

 

We sat on one of them and watched as a few squirrels skittered away. We were the only people around. Bev pulled her feet up on the bench and tucked them under her knees. I mirrored her position and she smiled as she took my hand and held it between both her own.

 

“I want you to understand Georgie that you _never, never-ever_ made me feel uncomfortable” she paused. Eventually I realised she was waiting for a reply.

 

“Ok...” I hesitated.

 

Bev's eyes were warm but her mouth was serious and tight as she continued. “I trust you and love you and so I don’t mind telling you this even though… even though its kind of hard for me.”

 

I made to protest, to tell her she didn’t have to but she held up a silencing hand before I could get even a single syllable out. I shut my mouth and settled back to listen, grounding myself in the way Bev was periodically tightening her fingers around mine in pulses.

 

“Before I lived with my Aunt, there was my father. My mother died when I was a toddler and so it was just me and my Dad and for awhile it was ok. Daddy was ok… but well… I-I think _something_ got to him or maybe… maybe he was just always like that but when I got older... about the same age as you when I first met you… things changed. My Dad turned... I dunno _rotten_ or something. H-he did things to me, hurt me. He-he--”

 

I squeezed her hand as she appeared to struggle around her words. She looked down at our fingers blinking. Then she looked up at me and smiled. Small and shy and so unlike Bev. The Bev I knew I was _anything but_ small and shy.

 

“It went on for years. And I did nothing. I couldn’t… I thought maybe it was my fault and it took me a long time to realise that it wasn’t and that he-- that he was a bad man.”

 

By now I was practically vibrating with a low thrum of anger. Anger for a faceless man that I’d never met. I imagined someone big, ominous, with a snivelling rat-face. The sort of bully that would think to hurt a child. That would hurt this beautiful person in front of me.

 

“He called you Bevvie?” I hissed through gritted teeth.

 

Beverly nodded, a strand of hair blew across her face and then danced back into place. “Yeah. When he wasn’t calling me his _'little girl'_ I was usually his _'little Bevvie'_.

 

It was like someone had combined vinegar and sodium powder inside my stomach. I felt sick and disgusted with myself.

 

I pulled my hand from Bev’s so I could push my hair back from my face. I couldn’t look at her. I turned to stare at the empty bench on the other side of footpath.

 

“Why didn’t you just tell me to stop? I would’ve, I swear" I spat through gritted teeth.

 

“Believe it or not, having _you_ call me it helped me.”

 

I whipped around to face her. She was coiling her hair again. A nervous tick perhaps.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

Her hands fell from her hair back to her lap. She didn't reach for me again.

 

“Well… when I met you, you were just...  _you._ The cutest little 7 year old to exist. With your gap teeth and your big hugs and your legos and your tiny little shoes and and… just your _innocence_. Your affection for me was so... _pure_. You see... I had spent so long questioning every male’s intentions towards me. Feeling my skin crawl when a stranger would accidentally brush past me, or when I would catch someone looking at me... but you, you would never hurt me. _And I knew that_. I could _trust that_. You helped me take back that name. Transform it from something ugly to something beautiful.”

 

“Oh...” I could feel the pink in my cheeks.

 

I'd... I'd helped. Bev had been suffering and I had helped. Even if I hadn't even been aware of it. I couldn't stop the small burst of pride that blossomed warmly in my chest.

 

“Thats right _‘oh’_ numbnuts" Bev giggled, a little bit of familiar spunk creeping back into her voice. "So like… please keep calling me it. It makes me happy.” 

 

I couldn't help chuckling too as she leaned forward to push her button nose against mine and rub it back and forth in an eskimo kiss. Oh to make Beverly Marsh happy. There's not a lot on this planet I wouldn't do.

 

“Anything for you Bevvie" I murmured, smiling.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... hope you enjoyed that tasting platter of Loser/Georgie moments. Please, please, please let me know what you thought! Cheers m'dears! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming to terms with going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter y'all. Dig in.

After Bev and I finally got back to the house, time started passing for me kind of like in a dream. On some level I was aware of the fact that tonight was my last night and that tomorrow I would be boarding a plane to head back to Derry but… it just didn’t seem real.

 

This week had just been… something else. A revelation in more ways than one.

 

How could I go back? To Derry. To my pedestrian life. Where nobody paid me much attention, and for a time there, I had been happy to be ignored. Derry – A Great Place To Raise Your Kids. Or so the real estate brochures said. My throat felt tight just thinking about it.

 

It put me in this weird state of mind that couldn’t quite be penetrated. Not by Mike making his famous Mac & Cheese for dinner. Not by Ben bringing out his expensive bottle of bourbon and everyone getting soppy with toasts. Not by the half-hugs and limpet-clinging that I kept periodically being pulled into by Bev and Eddie and Bill. Not by Stan’s uncharacteristic chattiness, like he was trying desperately to fill the space and time that we had left.

 

It was Richie who found me outside the front door. I’d excused myself to the bathroom about 15 minutes ago. I don’t know exactly how or why I ended up out here. Sitting on the steps. Watching the nighttime traffic flitter by.

 

“Hey there Georgie-Porgie-Pudding-Pie. What are you doing out here all on your lonesome?” Richie had his lighter in hand and a smoke tucked behind his ear. It was obvious what _he_ was doing out here. But what was _I_ doing out here?

 

“I just… needed some air” I offered lamely.

 

Richie sucked on his teeth and nodded. “A-yep. I getcha. Do you want me to go? Give you some P-to-the-Rivacy?”

 

I sighed, tipping myself against the cool metal railing.

 

“No. You can stay.” Even _I_ could hear the sombreness in my voice. _Man_ was I a downer.

 

Richie nodded again and hiked up the seat of his dark jeans before taking a seat next to me.

 

I watched as he pulled the cigarette box out of his shirt pocket. He pulled another smoke out. I could tell this one wasn’t a normal one. It was hand-rolled and differently shaped. Definitely weed.

 

“I think this is more appropriate for the funky apathetic melancholic teen vibe you got going on out here” he winked at me as his lighter sparked to life and he lit the end of the joint. I laughed as I watched him take a long drag. _Funky apathetic melancholic teen vibe??_ Where did Richie _come up_ with this shit?

 

After exhaling he held it out to me. My surprise and hesitation was my downfall.

 

“Oh I-- I dunno. I’m not sure if I--.”

 

“Relax G, I’ll ask your mother” Richie popped the joint back into his mouth and stood suddenly with an agility I would not have known he had. A few steps and he was leaning back in through the doorway and shouting.

 

“BIIIIIIILLIAM! IS IT OKAY IF GEORGIE SMOKES??”

 

A pause as Rich cocked his head to the side. And then came Bill’s voice echoing back through the house.

 

“WEED - YES. TOBACCO - _DON’T YOU_ _F-_ _FUCKING DARE!!_ ”

 

Richie cackled as he closed the door and jumped back down to sit beside me again.

 

“There you have it my man! Mom says yes!”

 

I felt my face begin to burn with embarrassment. “I don’t need his permission” I grumbled.

 

Richie coughed as he let out his most recent hit. “Fraid you do Georgie Foreman Grill. You ain’t a responsible adult member of society yet.”

 

Why did that smile with those crooked teeth have to be so goddamn disarming?? It was making me feel all squiggly in my belly. Which was _so_ not what I needed right now. Maybe I _did_ need to relax a bit.

 

“Says the guy giving marijuana to a minor” I snipped moodily, snatching the smoke from between his long fingers. “Ok so how do I do this?”

 

To my surprise there was no smartass response. No teasing. Just a gentle smile and a hand on my shoulder.

 

“Just hold it to your lips and inhale deep. Right into your lungs. Hold it there, but not for too long, and then release.”

 

I did as I was told. It wasn’t too bad. The taste seemed to bother me more than anything else. I coughed, but I’ve heard everybody does their first time. Overall not bad. I wondered idly when I would start feeling high. Would it matter that I was already a little drunk from the bourbon earlier?

 

“There ya go. Jolly good show sir!” Richie crowed from beside me, squeezing the back of my neck.

 

I leaned away from his jovially accented voice and grabby hands. I handed the joint back and leaned against the railing again. I could tell proximity was going to be a problem if I didn’t. Why did Richie always have to be so touchy-feely? Usually it was something that I quite enjoyed, but tonight, that warm breath and those wandering hands just itched under my skin like a bad rash.

 

“You okay Georgie?” the question was posed quietly, tentatively. A rare Richie-being-serious moment.

 

Which meant I had to give a serious, and unfortunately, _honest_ response _._

 

I rolled possible answers around in my mind. I wished I was brave enough to make eye contact. But I had a sneaking suspicion that looking at Richie’s earnest face might make me cry. And that’s just not a cool thing to do in front of your crush.

 

“Yeah. Just thinking about leaving tomorrow. I... don’t wanna go...” I finished lamely.

 

“Yeah we don’t want you to go either... its been ahh… a real trip having you here. The _most_.”

 

_A real trip? The most?_

 

“What are you some sort of 50’s DJ?” I snarked, sneaking a peak out of the corner of my eyes towards the man next to me.

 

Richie snorted, looking down as he fiddled with the array of rings on his fingers. “You shoosh. I’m trying to be emotionally vulnerable here. I have--” he paused to wave his hand about in the air, as though trying to grasp the words right out of the atmosphere, “--I got issues and stuff.” A glance my way and a small smile. “I guess I’m trying to say I care about you Georgie. We all do.”

 

That sparked another sleepy thought off in my head. They all cared about me huh? But why? How? And why only now?? They were questions that came from the low and base and insecure parts of me. But they had been niggling away for days none-the-less.

 

“Hey Richie? Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure thing Lil G.”

 

“How come you and Bev… you know… remembered me?”

 

At first Richie looked confused, but a few seconds later I watched as the idea seemed to catch on in his head like a lit match and he smiled.

 

“Oh right. Bev didn’t tell you? It happened when she was on the phone with her Aunt. The one that lives back in Derry. They still call each other now and then. Just like I do with my folks. I just happened to be sitting next to her while she talked away. I think I was doing her nails or something. Anyway her Aunt told Bev she’d seen your name in the local paper. Some hotshot photography competition that you’d won or something. She thought Bill might want to know that she’d seen it and smiled. I remember the exact moment. Bev had sucked in this really long breath. I tell you it was so long it made me look up from what I was doing. And then she just whispered your name. Georgie Denbrough. I thought I hadn’t heard her correctly so I got her to repeat it. And… I dunno… it was just weird. Like someone cracking an egg over my skull and all of these memories came oozing fantastically back. Little Georgie Denbrough. Only about 12 years old the last time I saw him. Sweet kid who deigned to hang out with us Losers even though he was _way too cool_ for us. The one who always gave us the best chucks and who was pretty much one of the most rad people I’ve ever met. And well… I’m sure you can guess the rest.”

 

I _could_ guess the rest. I could see how the scheme would have come together from there. Given what I knew about Bev and Richie and their ways. They were World Class schemers.

 

But I was a little too distracted at the moment. My cheeks were flooded with heat powerful enough to start a campfire.

 

Too distracted with Richie...

 

... not just his complimentary words... it was his entire way of _being_...

 

The way the smoke poured from his nostrils into elegant swirls around his gesticulating hands. The way the streetlamp reflected off his glasses. Those lips, perpetually chapped from too much chewing and not enough lip balm. Full and red and oh-so inviting. To kiss those lips…

 

I sighed closing my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, Richie was holding the joint out in front of my face.

 

I took it and inhaled another hit. I didn’t even bother sitting up from my reclined position. The movement seemed like too much effort, like my limbs were made of lead or something. What had we been talking about. I had a feeling it was my turn to say something but I couldn’t think past the last thought I’d had.

 

Kissing Richie.

 

My head felt heavy and… and foggy?

 

“You look sad” Richie offered, frowning a bit.

 

“I’m just thinking” I murmured, staring blandly at the smoke sweeping up and disappearing into the night sky.

 

“Thinking huh? Dangerous business that. Whatchu thinking ‘bout?”

 

“Kissing” I answered too honestly and too quickly.

 

Another snort. “Saucy. What about it?”

 

Belatedly I noticed I was holding the joint hostage. I took another quick hit, holding it in my lungs until it burned. Stale and gross tasting. Our fingers touched as I handed it back and I felt more words slipping from my lips as I pulled my hand back and fiddled with a strap on my prosthesis.

 

“I’ve never kissed anyone before. Kinda wish I could. Kinda wish I could be brave for once in my life.”

 

The silence made me nervous. I stole a glance over at Richie. I could tell by his expression that he didn't think I was being serious. Something clenched in my chest. I didn’t know how to feel about that.

 

“Well shoot Georgie. I would volunteer but I’m kinda already taken. Six times over.”

 

A toothy grin as he held up his wrist showing off the mess of bracelets and rings he wore. I knew some of them had been gifts from the other Losers. Some of them had been _stolen_ from other Losers. Some just reminded Rich of them. He wore them proudly like engagement rings.

 

Reminders that he had found his soulmates. Plural.

 

I couldn’t help reaching out my fingertips and tugging at the bracelet made out of Starburst wrappers. That one _had_ to be Bill’s handiwork. I had clear memories of sitting cross-legged in Bill’s room. A pudgy 3 year old watching in awe as their awesome 8 year old brother weaved paper together to make a long multicoloured chain. 

 

There was no way for me to compare I realised with muted emotion. How dare I even try. It was a depressing thought but like... it was like my brain couldn't quite register it right now. I felt... light.

 

“That's too bad. You know I always kind of had a crush on you…” The words sounded blurry and distant. Almost like it wasn’t exactly me saying them.

 

“Me?!”

 

The hand was snatched back out of my grasp. I tried not to take it personally.

 

“Mmhmm. Probably since I was old enough to _have_ crushes” I murmured with little affect.

 

“Oh.”

 

Silence. A god damn miracle when one Richie Tozier was present.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Georgie...”

 

“Don’t.” I pulled my legs up so my knees were folded against my chest. A makeshift barrier for a foolish confession. “You don’t have to say it. I know how things are and I don’t want your pity.”

 

“Its not pity George...”

 

Oh wow. Proper first names. Things must be _really_ serious. The thought bought a smile to my face and a bland giggle to my lips.

 

“ _It’s not!”_ Richie’s voice continued to insist. My eyes were closed though and I was back to leaning my cheek against the cool bars that made up the stair railing. A hand was on my shoulder though. Pinching, pulling. Making me look over. Richie was blinking owlishly at me, his face beautiful and blushing and very distressed.

 

“It’s--” he began… and then frowned. I saw the struggle in his face to find the right words. Finally, they all seemed to tumble out at once. “--it’s regret! Regret that I’m not the one for you. Because I adore you, you _must_ know that but I just can’t. But she’s out there. Or he. Whatever. They’re out there. I never put much stock in all that _meant-to-be_ romantic mumbo jumbo. That’s more Bev and Mike’s thing. But…"

 

Wonder of wonders, Richie appeared to turn all shy. His mouth hanging open and his eyebrows shifting into a vulnerable slant.

 

"... I love them" he continued, quiet but firm. "I love them _so much_. And I got no choice in the matter. It’s just how it is. And it will be the same for you. That person will come. And you will be so glad you didn’t waste your precious kisses on some four-eyed dork who _so doesn’t_ deserve your admiration. You feel?”

 

“Yeah...” I mumbled through the misty pressure building up behind my eyes. So much for feeling "light".

 

“Really Georgie” The arm on my shoulder squeezed. It was almost too rough. “That person is going to be so _so_ lucky to have you. You’re gonna blow their socks off. And I don’t mean that in a dirty way.”

 

A laugh that kind of sounded like a sob burst out of me. “Shut up Richie.”

 

The hand on my shoulder dropped away, the voice now sheepish, “Ok shutting up.”

 

“It’s just...” I sniffled feeling a sting high inside my nostrils. Keep it together Denbrough. Keep it fucking together.  “… I just don’t think that person is in Derry...” I forlornly watched as an old woman ambled past with an equally old corgi.

 

“Maybe not” Richie’s voice said beside me. “But it’s a big ol' world out there Georgie. You’ll find your tribe, I’m sure of it. And until then, you’ve still got us. We love you too ya know.”

 

“I know.” And I did, but the knowing didn't help my melancholia. Richie's voice continued.

 

“It’s just… there’s gotta be a _reason_ we all survived that fucking clown.”

 

I whipped my head around to find Richie staring contemplatively at an unlit cigarette. “Wait you remember the clown?”

 

He looked up at me. “Yeah. Yeah I do. Sort of. I’ve only remembered it just now. _That fucker!_ Reminiscing with you about _why_ and _how_ I managed to find the loves of my life in an evil place like Derry, Maine. What brought us all together… it was you, and it was that fucking clown. Fuck!”

 

I could see his hands were shaking a bit as he finally lit the cigarette.

 

“You’ll probably forget him as soon as I leave though.” I had been going for reassuring but had a feeling my tone just sounded sullen.

 

A long plume of smoke exhaled on a sigh. “God I _hope so.”_ A sly look my way. “But I tell yuh, I say I tell yuh what? I ain’t neeeever gonna forget you buddy boy!” The Foghorn Leghorn impression was pretty terrible but something about it broke the dam within me. The one that had been holding back the frothing, churning swell of emotions.

 

“T-thank you Richie” I couldn’t help tripping over the words as a few sobs broke loose and I could feel the salty tears finally breaking free and rolling down my cheeks.

 

“Aw love” long arms were suddenly wrapping around me, pulling me in as I tried to gulp back a few more cries. “Lovely boy. Sweet, brave boy” the words were murmured right against my scalp and they made me cry all the harder. I just couldn’t seem to stop. Just like Richie couldn’t seem to stop with his mutterings of gibberish. “Thank you so much. Thank you for remembering. For carrying the torch for us. You’re the strongest of us all. I love you so much.”

 

It might not be the love confession my heart wanted to hear right now. But I think it was the validation my soul needed.

 

The weight that sometimes felt like it was sitting right on my chest seemed to lighten somewhat.

 

\-----

 

We returned to the party eventually. After I’d let a few more manly tears soak into Richie’s shirt.

 

Perhaps sensing my mood, everyone sort of dispersed to bed pretty quickly after that.

 

I had kind of been expecting Bill to be more talkative as we both settled under the covers in his bedroom. We’d been spending just about every night off the last week talking before we would drop off to sleep. These dark intimate moments where I truly felt like there was nothing between us and I could just be myself with someone who completely accepted me.

 

I guess I had been expecting some sort of significant words, or parting wisdom. But none was forthcoming as Bill appeared to be staring at the ceiling. I waited. Nothing.

 

“Right. Night then...” I rolled onto my side and pulled the covers up around my shoulders.

 

Bill grunted something incomprehensible and I felt him reach over to switch the bedside lamp off.

 

 _Nothing? Really?_  After a week of him practically being stuck to my hip like a damn conjoined twin? Weird. But okay then. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to take me.

 

\-----

 

At first I couldn’t work out what had pulled me from my restless doze. The room was stuffy but quiet. A heavy silence draped over it. And then I heard it again. A rustle, a sniff and… a kind of half sob, half huff.

 

I rolled over again and even in the dark I could still see enough. Bill curled up on his side. His hands up near his face. Maybe if the light had been better I would have been able to see the tears gathering at his eyes but nevertheless, I knew they were there.

 

I shuffled closer until we were nose to nose.

 

“What’s up Bill?”

 

To an outsider this would probably sound like a _way_ casual reaction to finding my older brother crying. But that was the thing with Bill. Sometimes the absolute worst thing you could do with him was show him tenderness.

 

“I don’t wuh-want you to g-go. I don’t want you to luh-leave.” Muffled words, he hadn’t moved his hands away from his mouth.

 

“I don’t want to go either Billy” I whispered reverently back into the space between us.

 

“W-what if I f-f-forget you again?”

 

I allowed these words to sink in. I had many reservations about returning to Derry. Funnily enough, my brother abandoning me again was not one of them. Not even close.

 

I reached forward and curled my fingers around his, pulling our clasped hands down to be between our chests. I wanted no barriers between us.

 

“You _won’t_. We’ve talked about this. We are going to Skype at least twice a week to begin with. And I have my Instagram now. And I promise I’m going to start using my Facebook again. We will be in each others lives I swear it. You won’t have a chance to miss me. You have all the photos from this trip. You can hang a photo of me in every room if you must, I don’t care. And the others said they will help too. They won’t _let you_ forget.”

 

A watery sigh. “I know I just… I’m scared. For you. I don’t want you b-back there.”

 

“I’ll be fine” I squeezed my solitary hand around both of his. Trying to sound as sure as possible. Even though I had voiced the same thoughts to myself constantly over the last 24 hours. I needed to be strong for Bill. It was important. “Its just a few years and I will be out of there.”

 

“And then you’ll c-come here and live with uh-us?” A twitch of a muscle. A subtle pull of my body towards his.

 

It was as flattering as it was tempting but... some of Richie’s words from earlier tonight were echoing through my mind. They presented new possibilities, tantalising hypotheticals.

 

“Maybe. It would definitely be nice. But you have your own thing going on here. I think... I think I need to find my own people, my own tribe… or something like that.”

 

“Fuck them. I want you all to myself.” No stutters. I wasn’t egotistical enough to think it made his words mean more. But it was still a sweet thought.

 

I chuckled. “Right. 'cause being the eighth-wheel in a house full of sex maniacs sounds soooo appealing.”

 

“We’ll all go c-cel-celibate or something. Fuck, I dunno.” More pulling. A foot hooked over my legs to slide them closer.

 

I shook my head with a sigh. “You can’t shelter me my whole life Billy.”

 

“Yes I damn well can!” Bill’s voice was verging on serious. The playful humour had dropped away at some point.

 

“Don’t I deserve a chance to see what life outside of Derry is like too...?”

 

I was trying to be delicate. I wanted my brother so desperately to understand. I waited, the silence deafening as he gave my words his consideration.

 

“… Maybe” his acquiescent surrender.

 

The relief was overwhelming. I acknowledged it with a crooked bump of our noses together. “Look I’m not saying no. Coming and living here with you would be damn fun. I’m sure of it. We’ll just have to wait and see what fate has in store for us.”

 

“F-fate? When d-did you b-become so philosophical?”

 

I shrugged. “Guess I been spending too much time around your loopy friends.”

 

“Yeah whatever.”

 

I leaned forward again and nuzzled our cheeks together "Love you Billy. Can you sleep now?"

 

Receiving the grumbling affirmative nod, I rolled over, bringing the discussion to a close. I guess I should have expected the arms wrapping around me and pulling me back against a warm body, but I still felt exultant when they did. It was just like when we were kids. Bill clinging to me like I was an anchor. A safe haven in a stormy sea.

 

I meant everything I said. This whole week had taught me that Bill had changed, but he was still my big brother. He still had so much love reserved for me. Enough to match, maybe even outweigh, the love I had for him.

 

How could one individual have so much love within them? So much to give to so many people. It was amazing.

 

It’s nice to feel vindicated in your choice of hero now and then.

 

I snuggled back against him and felt myself dropping off not much longer after that.

 

\-----

 

The next morning was a quick and business-like affair. I was trying to hold back my emotions and I kinda felt like everyone else was doing the same.

 

I know myself. I’m a wimp, through and through. I just _knew_ that if I broke, that I probably would never leave. Just like, sit myself on the stoop and _refuse_ to leave.

 

I needed to be strong. This wasn’t goodbye forever. Just for now.

 

It was only Bill who was blubbering openly. No surprise there.

 

Though I noticed Ben’s nose _was_ a little red. Even Stan kept sniffing and frustratedly looking up at the clear sky now and then. Everyone was clinging to someone else. Mike to Ben, Eddie to Bev, Richie had his arms around Stan’s waist and his chin on his shoulder. Bill finally let me out of his hug after planting one final kiss on my shoulder.

 

I turned and beckoned to the rest of them.

 

It was like a football huddle. They all fell into this claustrophobic cuddle situation with me sandwiched in the middle.

 

It was for the best. I don’t think my nerves could have handled hugging them all individually.

 

And then I pulled away.

 

I hurriedly thanked them and waved and ducked inside my cab. Let's just get this over with.

 

“BYE GEORGIE!!” Eddie shouted at my closed window waving frantically.

 

“WE LOVE YOU DARLING!!” Bev followed up.

 

“STAY SAFE AND COME SEE US AGAIN SOON!” Mike’s smile was blinding and his giant hand was thumping the roof to emphasise his words.

 

Richie’s knuckle was rapping against the opposite back passenger window, grabbing my attention.

 

“STAY IN DRUGS – EAT YOUR SCHOOL – DON’T DO VEGETABLES!”

 

I laughed through a sob and lifted my hook to my head in salute.

 

My cab was pulling away and I could see them spilling out into the street like leaves caught in the wind.

 

They were still waving.

 

Maybe it was a trick of the lighting, or the tears blurring up my vision, but it was almost like there was some kind of aura hanging around them. Like a bubble or something. A beautiful, enchanting impenetrable thing that for a week, I had been allowed inside of.

 

On impulse I threw the top half of my body out of the window and pointed my camera haphazardly in their direction.

 

They all jumped and cheered crazily when they saw that.

 

That was the last image I had of them as I turned the corner.

 

Hands in the air. Some legs were being kicked up. Mouths frozen in mid shout. Wild and free and together.

 

And I knew then and there that I wanted that.

 

I _would_ have that one day. No matter how long it took.

 

“Strange, stupid kids. Ought to be more careful” my cab driver grunted in a thick accent as we merged into busy traffic.

 

I laughed as I struggled one-handed with my seat belt.

 

“Agreed.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! And so concludes the first and probably only Poly Losers fic I will ever write. I'll be honest ma dudes, the struggle was real. I love-love-LOVE poly losers - but gosh I find them hard to write. ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed my little story. It would mean the world to me if you'd let me know what you thought. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am on [tumblr](http://the-angry-pixie.tumblr.com/) and [here](https://poly-losers-club.tumblr.com) is the Poly-Losers blog I run.


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